


Lover of the Light

by cxhztile



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nicknames, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, idk man it's just gay shit, this is what... post-4x9? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxhztile/pseuds/cxhztile
Summary: Words spoken amidst sleep are often the gentlest of all.(AKA just quiet contemplation in the middle of the night about feelings)
Relationships: Caleb Brewster/Benjamin Tallmadge
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Lover of the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [picketfences (OnyxSphinx)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/gifts).



> i wasn't going to post this, especially because it's SO short, but at the same time charles and i are always complaining about a lack of content so... Ego Took Over... also yes the title is from a mumford & sons song because what did you expect of me

“ _Otter…_ ”

Were it not for the grip on his bicep that was beginning to indent the shape of nails into the muscle, he wouldn’t have turned his head and caught the tail end of the word. The speaker, whose head was precariously placed near his shoulder, was still very much asleep— no doubt speaking in a dream with such volume that words were leaving his physical mouth— and his hand was as icy as it had been before they dozed off, despite the, admittedly sheepish, pressing together of their bodies and the thick layers of sheet and quilt covering them. The victim of the frozen hand merely sighed and opened his eyes further than their half lidded state, prying off the fingers in one go and placing the arm over his hip after rolling from his back onto his side facing his slumbering companion. 

As if feeling safer all of the sudden, said companion drew him in closer, closing his arms in further, and rested his forehead upon a collarbone, only to need to readjust his face as thick dark hairs tickled it. His flaxen hair— no, _golden_ , as it had begun to darken with age— was just barely remaining in its braid, tousled and trying to escape after their wrestling on the bed in appreciation for having a real bed for once, as opposed to a rickety cot in a grimy canvas tent, and other tossings of his head against his pillow. His now-awake bedfellow reaching over his shoulder and pulled at one end of both the navy and black ribbons that had been securing the braid, undoing the knots with as much ease and as little movement as possible, letting them fall onto the mattress instead of even attempting to throw them in the direction of the room’s desk and having to watch his failure. With the blonde hair now fully free, he ran his fingers through its waves and gently tugged apart any knots or tangles, smiling as fell across the mattress and bare shoulders, only to feel a smile of equal girth against his chest. 

Although part of him desperately wanted to see the smile resting upon his bosom and make good on it, mostly he was just glad that Ben had _finally_ started to rest after _years_ of sleep being lost to stress and, more recently, war. He had always been the worrying type, caring so passionately about anything and everything with a heart that was once too big for his body, but was now correctly proportioned among his long, strong physique. Yorktown was giving them the hope of succeeding that they had been dreaming of since the beginning of the war, so overwhelmed with joy that they couldn’t see what the future was going to demand of them, but it didn’t matter much because their current happiness and path of achievement were more important. Of course, the _most_ important thing to Caleb had been the cheeky smirk Ben had wore as they came to their shared room (having grown too used to sleeping with the others presence) and the glint in his eye that had made Caleb feel as lovesick as when they were teenagers and he had just realized he saw Ben as more than just his closest friend. 

He was growing even more sick the longer he thought about it but couldn’t stop himself from continuing to run his fingers through Ben’s hair and settle his other arm underneath the other’s ribs, cupping his back. As if they couldn’t move closer, Ben fully pressed up against him, his chest now hitting the top of Caleb’s stomach and instantly warming to its touch. Caleb’s chest immediately began to burn— not in its freshly healed scars, but around his heart, which felt like it was about to burst. His cheeks flushed red hot and he was suddenly glad for the combination of darkness and Ben being fast asleep, or he wouldn’t have survived the embarrassment of it all. Crushes were for school-children, not whaler-turned-spies in their early 30s, and certainly not to be had on their lifelong best friend who was their superior officer and was practically cuddling them right now. 

He could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ear but it was too late to roll over or untangle them, knowing Ben would wake up from all the fidgeting and sleepily furrow his brow while asking what the problem was. The image of it was already too much for him to handle so he avoided making it a reality and instead laid there, nearly holding his breath, until he eventually fell asleep after what felt like days. In reality, it was probably just the wee hours of the morning but regardless, being woken again a few hours later, this time by the sun and a shiny face fluttering its lashes, was… unexpected but not entirely unpleasant. At some point between having passed out and _Ben_ waking up, Ben had evened out their positions and tucked his arms under his head on his pillow, quite clearly watching Caleb as he slept but trying not to make it so obvious. It took several blinks but Caleb managed to dissipate the bleariness in his eyes and look upon the man before him, burning urge creeping back onto his lips. 

“Good morning.” Ben greeted softly, keeping his tone low so as to not upset Caleb’s ears.

“‘Morning, _Lion_.” Caleb chuckled in reply, tilting an arm back to scratch the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Ben’s cheeks became dusted with pink, likely at the silly nickname itself, rather than the reciprocation of his sleep-talking. Their gazes lingered on each other, looking over the other’s face before momentarily locking eyes and repeating the process for a handful of moments. Then, without any (more) hesitation, Caleb leaned forward, cupping the back of Ben’s head as he brought their lips together and prayed this long awaited notion wasn’t too rash or his beard too coarse to be comfortable. Ben stiffened for a second, caught off guard by his boldness, but once the reality of the situation sunk in, he temporarily smiled before grasping for Caleb’s hips and slightly opening his mouth, as if he had been waiting for this for a while as well. And so, their duties went undone and messengers were ignored, too caught up in the sensation of skin-on-skin and warm, fuzzy feelings. 


End file.
